Mouse is a plump tabby cat that calls my home her home. She is often reclusive and is relatively adverse to normal cat affection habits. Most of the time, she'd rather be talked to than pet. And for fuck's sake do not try to pick her up. Not that you're guaranteed to be laced open, though that is a real threat, just that she'll take it as a sign that she's been sociable far too long and return to hidden sanctuaries for the rest of the day... maybe longer.
This cat named Mouse has my unconditional love because she was given to me by two friends before I moved from Grand Rapids to Toronto. One I see too infrequently and the other I haven't heard from in years. Mouse does her best to test this sentimental attachment from time to time. Usually the test comes in the form of trying my ability to allow my clothes and couches to be soiled with her urine.
Initially, I assumed that it had a lot to do with the arrival of The Dingo in her life. Dingo, the constant vibration of a dog that joined our family about a year & a half ago, is far too extroverted for Mouse's comfort levels. The bitch can't manage to stay still unless she gets that wild 'stalking' hair up her ass when Mouse attempts to traverse the apartment. I can see why Mouse doesn't appreciate The Dingo's interest and company. Urination outside the litter box ensued. Although it threw a wrench into Mouse's existence, they eventually managed to coexist and now they even exchange affection on occasion as long as they thought the Monkeys that feed them aren't watching. The place even began to regain its cleanliness.
Then we moved last February from my 1-bedroom place atop the Toronto Core to a midtown tower with a tad more space but 4 times as many occupants. This basically caused Mouse to be no longer satisfied with her urine free home again. This time the problem grew exponentially and as of one week ago, Mightydoll and I were processing nearly double the laundry simply to try to maintain a clean home. Cat pees on the couch, minimum one hour of clean up. Cat pees on a blanket or dirty laundry, minimum two extra laundry hours of work need to be invested just to rid ourselves of the smell.
This was my daily life for about 5 months.
Three months ago, I tried relocating her litter box to the bathtub where The Dingo wasn't able to reach the fine delicacies that Mouse left behind for her (that's a whole other post). Bad idea. Now the fucking cat pisses AND shits everywhere except her box. Okay. So I return the litter box to the cupboard under the bathroom sink. Well, that was a bad idea as well. See, The Dingo's love for feeding on Mouse's fecal matter seemed to unsettle the cat and thus resulted in Mouse being fully aware of her box's location and simply refusing to use it. Something about a razor tooth ridden scavenger casing her toilet and interfering with a rather private activity understandably produced the refusal. I can see why she won't use it, but it didn't seem to sway my recurring idea that seeing if the cat can land on her feet from 230 feet in the air was sound and just.
Still, I think Mouse eventually began to have her own sense of domestic hygiene because last month she began to shit in the bathtub as opposed to the kid's beds or my clean clothes. Every day. Strange though. I was certain we tried that location already. There I go again, praying against all logic, I return her box to the tub. It was beautiful. Miraculous like a virgin bearing a Saviour, she began to poo in her box in the tub and since last week, has also ceased extra-kittybox urination habits. It will still be a few days before we find all of the soiled areas of the apartment and right the very, very wrong, but I think this brings and end to my test of love with Mouse for now.
HUBRIS WINS!
Labels: cat urine, dingo, pissing, shit eating, spraying
